


The Receiver

by DunkinLove



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Eavesdropping, Established Relationship, Multi, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 07:30:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4820612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DunkinLove/pseuds/DunkinLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon's curiosity gets the best of him as he listens to a bug in Illya's room</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Receiver

Napoleon watched as his two colleagues left the bar and walked together to the bank of elevators in their hotel, carefully not touching.

They had just finished their most recent mission and were due to leave tomorrow. After celebratory drinks at the hotel bar, Illya and Gaby excused themselves and left Napoleon to finish his drink alone, or for however long it took for some woman to take their place. 

Tonight, however, Napoleon wasn't in the mood to seduce or be seduced. Not this early at least. Instead he watched until his colleagues entered their elevator and disappeared before he got up from his seat and headed for the stairs. 

He entered his room on the second floor and poured himself a drink.

They all had their separate rooms this mission. Neither of the men were in disguise as Gaby's mate this time around, but Napoleon had noticed recently that his colleagues always arrived in the lobby together every morning and excused themselves for bed at the same time. 

He had wondered about the nature of their relationship for awhile. He knew they were involved, of course. Anyone who was around them as much as him would be able to see that- but they hardly touched in his presence . He had nearly walked in on them twice, their faces close enough to have kissed, but he has never seen them in the act.

He can understand why. Any intimate relationship discovered between them could risk their jobs...or their lives. Not to mention the fact that they both come from cultures where public displays of affection are heavily frowned upon, especially between unmarried partners.

Napoleon had to use his imagination to fill in the blanks between their shy glances and clandestine touches. They were both attractive people, so it was not unpleasant to think about, but he was more curious because they were such an _odd_ pair. She was fiery and spunky, constantly teasing her large and dour partner, who, for whatever reason, seemed to relish her ruthless prodding. Physically, he stood a full foot taller than the little German, making them quite the sight when they walked together, his head slightly bent to hear her as she looked up at him and chirped about this and that. It only made Napoleon wonder about the mechanics of their relationship behind closed doors.

He had a way to solve that mystery, however. He and the Russian had stopped bugging each other's rooms months ago, once it was clear they were officially on the same side. It was rare for him to even find trackers anymore. On this mission though, he couldn't resist using the equipment for some non-work related snooping.

Setting his drink down, Napoleon went into the bedroom and retrieved a receiver from one of his suitcases. He sat back down and looked at the device. It would transmit from a bug placed in Illya's room if he were to turn it on. He was half temped to put the receiver back; everyone deserves privacy and despite being his colleagues, it was none of his business what they got up to when he wasn't around...but then again, he wasn't the most moral of men and he knew for a fact those two had no qualms about listening in on him seducing marks. "It's for your safety" they would say. _Yeah, sure it was_.

He took one large sip of the whiskey and turned the receiver on.

There was the soft crackle of silence. Napoleon stayed still so he wouldn't miss anything. He began to wonder if it was transmitting properly when he heard heavy footsteps and the thunk of an object being turned over. There was rustling of what sounded like Illya unlatching and going through his suitcase and the foot steps retreated. Faintly he could hear a faucet running in the background and teeth being brushed.

 _Well this is disappointing_ , Napoleon thought. He really had no interest in listening in on Illya's bedtime routine and he was about to flick the receiver off and head back down to the hotel bar when a light knock came through the static of the receiver. 

The faucet turned off and he heard footsteps tread off in the distance. A lock may have clicked and a door opened. A soft female voice murmured, quickly responded to by Illya's deeper one. They were too far from the bug for him to unequivocally hear what they were saying but he could tell they were speaking in German. It was strange to hear them using the language since they almost exclusively used English around him, despite him being fluent in German. Maybe it was just one of their ways of separating their personal lives from their uncomfortably closely tied work lives....or maybe it was a sign that Napoleon's German isn't nearly as good as he thought it was. 

Their voices and steps came closer. He heard the clink of glasses and liquid being poured into crystal. 

"Vodka?" Gaby asked.

"What kind?" Illya asked in his accented German.

"French, of course."

There was a scoff, but he heard more liquid being poured anyway so maybe French vodka isn't all that bad after all. The snob.

He heard two bodies sit on upholstery. They sat quietly at first, enjoying the liquor and then started speaking about the mission they had just concluded, hints Waverly had given them about the next one and their upcoming flight itineraries.

"Good Christ these two are boring," Napoleon said as he threw back the remainder of his drink. He was once again tempted to turn off the receiver and head downstairs when he heard his name mentioned and his ears perked up. 

"I hope he doesn't overdo it tonight. If I have to sit on one more flight with his hungover body propped up against mine and his hot whiskey breath in my face I will lose my mind" Gaby said.

Illya grunted in agreement. "Maybe there will be some especially lonely wife at the bar he can take to his room, cut his drinking time in half. Although with that suit he's wearing I doubt any woman will take his invitation seriously."

"Yes, it was terrible. What was he thinking?" They both laughed.

"Assholes" Napoleon muttered under his breath. He liked this suit...it was a bit fashion forward yes, but he thought it looked good on his frame. 

He got up from his seat and poured more whiskey. Tomorrow he'll give her the worst whiskey breath she's ever experienced. 

When he returned he could hear Gaby's voice getting a little slurred. She had already had a few drinks prior to them retiring for the night and now after a glass of straight vodka he imagined she was probably feeling pretty good. 

They teased about which woman they spotted at the bar earlier would be most likely to go back to Napoleon's room. Gaby guessed the woman with the purple dress, sitting to the side with an older man, probably her husband, looking bored and glancing wistfully in their direction. Napoleon took note. 

Illya stated that it did not matter since women just approach Napoleon on their own. He needs to do nothing more than just sit there and smile like an idiot.

"If you did not know me" Gaby asked "and you saw me at a bar, like the one downstairs, would you approach me?" 

"Probably not, no" Illya answered quietly, no mockery in his voice.

"Why not?" 

There was a few moment of silence and even Napoleon was holding his breath, glass held to his lips.

"I would not..." He paused, maybe looking for the proper words in German, maybe unsure of what he should confess "I would assume that you would have someone already or that you would not be interested in someone like me." 

He heard shifting on the upholstery and then barely audibly. "Then you would have been a fool" she said, followed by the sound of a kiss. Then a soft groan. More kissing. 

_I should really turn this off_ , Napoleon thought, but he didn't. 

The sound of the kissing continued, inter-spaced with soft sighs. Napoleon sat rigid in his chair, wondering how far this would go.

The kissing ceased for a moment and there was only the distant sound of breathing, a soft "Yes" and the creak of furniture as someone lifted themselves from the seat. One set of heavy footsteps grew louder as they approached the bug in the bedroom.

There was a soft thud of a body landing softly on a mattress and the light squeaking of springs as a heavier body followed suit. With a soft moan from Gaby the kissing continued and he heard the rustling of fabric. Either the sheets were being pulled back or clothes being removed or both. A loud impact sounded near the bug. Illya must have thrown a shoe where the bug was placed. The clinking of a belt buckle, the snap of an elastic strap, a soft female laugh.

Napoleon leaned back in the chair with his drink, having committed himself fully to listening to these two. He wondered how they would go about doing it. Would it be quick and conservative, the stereotype of the Communist who only engages in sex for procreation and duty but never enjoyment? He doubted it. As dry as Illya could be sometimes he seemed passionate for at least one facet of his life, that being the woman who was now lying presumably naked in his bed. 

The only sound coming over the receiver was Gaby's labored breathing. The kissing had ceased and he listened as the breathing deepened into a full throated moan. 

Napoleon snatched the receiver to turn down the volume before anyone in the next room heard. It's one thing to hear moans from a live person in the next room, but entirely different to hear it coming from a receiver in the next room. 

Her moans intensified and there was the creak of either hands or ankles being dug into the mattress. With a final gasp of his name the moaning subsided and her breathing eased. Napoleon finally heard a deep intake of breath from Illya, as though he were coming up for air. 

_Well, ladies first_ , Napoleon toasted.

Their kissing resumed briefly, but with more aggression. More sucking and the occasional hiss of a bite. 

"Get on your knees" he heard Illya growl deeply. Napoleon felt his eyes widen. _Certainly not conservative_.

There was a heartbeat of a laugh from her and the sound of shifting bodies. Gaby gave a sharp intake of breath. A low groan from Illya. 

"Too much?" He murmured with concern.

"No." She said breathlessly.

Napoleon had to hand it to her, it would certainly be intimidating to have someone that much larger than you have complete and total access to your body. He could very easily hurt her whether he intended to or not.

He heard them set their rhythm. The soft slap of bare skin on bare skin came over the receiver, with each of their moans and sighs almost in unison. The pace increased and the sound of impact became louder and more frequent.

At this point Illya began murmuring to her in Russian. Napoleon leaned his ear toward the receiver to make out his guttural words. He knew from the first time he saw her in her car that he'd have her like this- Defiant little defector- Tried to escape and now look at her - Knew he'd catch her eventually and make her submit- Submit to him- Submit to Russia-

"You cannot be serious" Napoleon said under his breath.

He listened for Gaby's response. Her breathing was as labored as it had been before, every now and again releasing a sharp hiss at a particularly hard thrust. Napoleon knew she was just learning Russian and probably didn't know what Illya was saying as he was role-playing his own profession. He expected that if she did she'd probably turn around and slap _Illya_ into submission.

But then she began to beg him in broken Russian and Napoleon realized that maybe she was playing along after all. _I should try this next time_ , he thought, _although 'Submit to the United States' just doesn't have the same ring to it_ , he admitted

Gaby emitted a muffled cry and sharp German curse word into a pillow or a blanket.

The sound of slapping stopped. Illya was panting heavily. Gaby's own breathing reemerged after being muffled by fabric.

"Lie down" she commanded.

He must have obeyed because there was a creak of a large body falling back on the bed and a thud of something hitting the headboard. A Russian curse. A laugh from Gaby.

"You're too big for this bed. Are you okay?" she said giggling.

"Of course"

"It's solid bone anyway" he heard her say with an audible smile.

There is a sharp crack of a hand on a fleshy part of the body and another laugh from Gaby.

"Come here" he said. The kissing resumed, more gentle this time, and two luxuriant sighs from both of them as they resumed their lovemaking. 

He could hear a softer rhythm being made. Gaby's breathes and moans were erratic as she did most of the labor while he continued to speak to her in Russian, but softly with the hint of desperation in his voice. He was much more vocal in the bedroom than he ever is at work, or anywhere else for that matter, Napoleon noted.

He murmured endearments to her between gasps and Napoleon can almost imagine the look he must have on his face. It's the same look he has whenever she needs to separate from him in the midst of a particularly dangerous mission or when they say goodbye at the airport when their responsibilities call for them to be in different locations. The man was completely dedicated to her. Napoleon doubted Illya had much experience with women; it had taken months for him to move forward with Gaby, someone he saw nearly everyday. He wouldn't be the least bit surprised if Gaby was only one of a few, if not the only. He certainly would never ask to find out.

Suddenly neither were speaking aside from each other's names and an occasional curse. Gaby gave one last keening moan and Illya answered with a deep groan. The springs squeaked as a body fell on the bed. Their heavy labored breathing filled the receiver. A few moments later Napoleon realized he was breathing quite heavily as well. He felt like he needed a cigarette.

Napoleon was about to turn off the receiver - his curiosity completely and unexpectedly placated - when Gaby spoke. 

"Do you think he knows about us?" she asked, her voice husky from sex and alcohol.

"Who, Waverly? I hope not."

"No, Solo" she clarified.

"Yes. Or, at least, he thinks he knows about us. It's very annoying" 

"Should we worry about that?" 

"No." There is the sound of someone rolling over "We can trust him. Come here" 

The sheets rustle and they continue speaking. Their voices nothing more than whispers. Napoleon reaches over and turns off the receiver. Oddly enough, it is too intimate for him to listen in on their post coital pillow talk. He is used to leaving or being left soon after the act is finished or feigning sleep until dawn and slipping out. Listening to those two whisper and bond not only feels invasive but also makes him feel...envious? He isn't sure but whatever it is, it makes him uncomfortable eavesdropping. 

Splashing his face with cold water in the sink, Napoleon decides to try his luck back down at the bar. He may even have a chance to try some of the new lines he learned from this evening's experience.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Friday.
> 
> I wanted to get Napoleon's thoughts on Illya/Gaby's love life without being overly creepy or hedonistic...it might still be a little creepy but they did do it to him, so...
> 
> Hope you enjoy. Apologies for any grammatical/punctuation errors.


End file.
